


i'm a birdie on the wing

by seimaisin



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-18
Updated: 2010-10-18
Packaged: 2017-10-13 07:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/134930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seimaisin/pseuds/seimaisin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High school AU! <i>Spencer had no idea how he ended up in show choir.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm a birdie on the wing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merihn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merihn/gifts).



> Written for [](http://merihn.livejournal.com/profile)[**merihn**](http://merihn.livejournal.com/) for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/help_pakistan/profile)[**help_pakistan**](http://community.livejournal.com/help_pakistan/) charity auction. Her list of requests included Brendon/Spencer and high school AUs, so I hope this fits something she was looking for! :) Thanks to [](http://tuesdaysgone.livejournal.com/profile)[**tuesdaysgone**](http://tuesdaysgone.livejournal.com/) for the beta! Title stolen shamelessly from _A Chorus Line_.

Spencer had no idea how he ended up in show choir.

No, that wasn't true. It was, as most things were, Ryan's fault. "Come audition with me," he said, turning imploring eyes on Spencer. "I can't do it alone."

"You're not doing it alone. You're auditioning with whats-her-name, isn't that the whole point?" Spencer had a hard time remembering which of Ryan's obsessive crushes was the one who loved choir. There had been a lot of names to keep straight over the last few years.

"The guys and girls audition separately. I can't sit in that room by myself, Spence. Just learn some song and come audition. Only the choir director will hear you, it'll be fine."

It was a stupid idea - most of Spencer's singing was done along to the radio, and occasionally with Ryan or Brent if they were trying to remember the lyrics to a particular song. He'd certainly never performed for anyone, and had no desire to do so. However, in ten years of friendship with Ryan, Spencer had never learned how to say no. So really, that's how he ended up standing in front of the choir director on a Wednesday night. He sang a song - some musical number that Ryan's girlfriend taught him, he didn't even remember the name of it - and left the room, knees shaking. "Glad I don't have to do that again," he muttered to Ryan on their way out the door.

The only thing was, apparently Spencer was _good_. He didn't buy it, but call it a full moon or some temporary insanity on the part of the choir director or whatever, in the end, his name ended up on the final list. "Oh, god," he groaned when he saw it. "I can't do this. I have to go tell him. I'll quit, someone who wants to be there can have my spot."

(Ryan did not make it, but Ryan never actually intended to make it. He just wanted to impress his girlfriend with the effort. And a month later, he broke up with that girlfriend and started following some upper class dude - a soccer player named Pete - around like a puppy dog. Spencer told him that there was no way in hell he'd ever try out for the soccer team, so Ryan could just fuck off.)

He totally meant to quit the choir, honest. But when he caught up to the choir director, the guy was so effusive in his praise of Spencer's audition that Spencer just couldn't bring himself to disappoint the guy. And that was actually how he ended up having class with the show choir three days a week.

*

The first class was an exercise in pain and futility. Spencer snagged a seat next to the wall and listened as the director introduced himself and started talking about music he intended them to sing this semester. Spencer recognized none of it. Then, he opened the floor for suggestions of popular songs people might want to learn, and that started the most painful half hour of Spencer's high school career. After a while, he started to mutter out loud. "Lady Gaga? Oh, if you ask me to sing "Poker Face", I'm quitting for sure."

"I'll join you," the guy next to him chimed in unexpectedly.

Spencer felt his face turn red. "Sorry. I didn't mean ..."

"That's okay. Any rational person would start babbling to themselves at this point," he stage whispered. The three guys in the row in front of them snorted in agreement. "I'm holding out for Journey, myself. We could totally rock 'Don't Stop Believin'."

"Are you serious? That song's meant for a singalong in the car, not a show choir."

"With the right arrangement, it'd kick ass," his neighbor argued.

The director heard their voices and looked to their section, so Spencer shut up. He stole a look at his companion; a skinny kid with a mess of dark brown hair and an ugly tweed coat that looked like something Spencer's grandfather would wear. (Or, more honestly, something Ryan would wear.) Despite his words, he appeared to be following the chaotic conversation avidly. Spencer sighed and looked down at his feet.

Eventually, the director stopped talking and began vocal warm ups. He made them all stand up, and Spencer found his knees shaking again. He gripped the chair in front of him to steady himself. The tweed coat kid looked over at him, but Spencer stared straight ahead and concentrated on making some kind of unoffensive sound come out of his mouth.

He was sweating when he left the class. When he met up with Ryan, he said it was because singing was totally more physical than he thought it would be. It was partly the truth.

*

Time went on, and Spencer stopped getting dizzy the minute he had to stand and open his mouth. He gave most of the credit to the kid sitting next to him - Brendon, per the director. Brendon actually belonged in this choir, way more than Spencer. His voice was fantastic, and quickly Spencer figured out that if he sang at half-volume and just tried to match whatever Brendon was doing, he was okay.

And then they started learning choreography.

"I have no rhythm," Spencer lamented to Ryan after their first moving rehearsal.

"Bullshit, you play drums."

"Knowing how to keep the beat on a drum kit does not translate to knowing how to move the rest of my body on the beat." It had been an unmitigated disaster. He moved right when everyone else moved left, stepped back when he should step forward, and he'd stepped on poor Brendon's toes often enough that Spencer thought he might owe the other boy a new pair of Converse sneakers. "I should quit," he said morosely.

"Don't be a quitter, Smith," Ryan said absently as he typed away on his phone. "I wonder why they didn't have dancing auditions, though."

"They should have, then I wouldn't be in this position."

"Well, nobody ever accused anyone in charge at that fucking school of being smart."

Spencer was forced to agree.

Their first public performance was at the nursing home next door to the school. They'd only learned two songs, but the director figured they could use the practice. "The fall concert is only six weeks away!" he said cheerily. "Experience with an audience will do all you new people good!" It was a dozen or so old people. Shouldn't be a big deal at all, Spencer thought. He was at least moving in the proper directions now, so as long as he could at least mouth the words and not fall on his face, the whole thing should be just fine.

They stood at the side of the room as the home's residents slowly filed in. Spencer glanced over at the area of floor they'd cleared to be their 'stage', and suddenly his skin felt clammy. "Shit," he breathed, rubbing the back of his neck and closing his eyes.

"Hey." It was Brendon's voice, quiet as he stood next to Spencer. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Spencer lied. "Just a ... thing."

"Okay." But Brendon patted him on the arm anyway. The gesture helped Spencer swallow the lump in his throat.

Their director announced them. The old people clapped politely, and the choir marched onto the makeshift stage. Spencer took his place in the back line and took a deep breath. When the music started, he opened his mouth ... and no sound came out. He cleared his throat and tried again, but all he heard was a raspy whisper. He froze. He knew, at the back of his mind, that the right thing to do was to just mouth the words and start moving. He didn't have any solos, there were six other guys singing his part. He should just fake it ... except, he couldn't. He stood stock still until the girl in front of him stepped backwards onto his toes. She stumbled, then turned around and glared daggers at him.

Eventually, he made himself move, but he was two beats behind everyone else for the rest of the performance. After it was all over, Spencer just wanted to go home and dig a hole to hide in. "It's okay," said the choir directer with forced cheerfulness, "that's why we have warm-up performances! We'll just make sure you practice extra hard before the big concert."

Quite frankly, just the mention of the fall concert made Spencer want to puke.

Later that day, as Spencer was pulling his bag out of his locker, he heard his name being called behind him. "Hey, Spencer!"

When he turned around, Brendon came sliding to a stop in front of him. "Hi," Spencer said cautiously. They'd never spoken outside of choir, and even there, Spencer wasn't sure they'd exchanged more than a dozen sentences.

Now that he was stopped, Brendon seemed unsure. He ran a hand through his unruly hair and stared for a moment. "Um. Well. The show, earlier ..."

"I really don't want to talk about that."

"I just ..." Brendon shrugged. "I wondered if you want to practice. You know, outside of class. Before the concert, anyway?"

The word 'concert' made Spencer a little nauseous again. "Um. I don't know."

"I just thought," Brendon said in a rush, "it might help if you weren't in front of the whole class? And maybe it sounds weird, me offering like this, but I thought ..." Brendon shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down. "Just thought I'd offer."

Brendon started to turn away. Spencer thought about what it would be like to walk into class in two days and have to face everyone. He swallowed. "Okay," he said, before he could change his mind.

Brendon turned back. "Really?"

"Yeah. Um, thanks. When do you want to do it?"

"What are you doing tonight?"

Spencer shrugged. "Nothing big." Hanging out with Ryan was a constant plan that could always be canceled in emergencies. And, really, if preventing his own abject humiliation wasn't an emergency, what was?

*

"No offense," Brendon asked as they walked from the bus stop to his house, "but if you've got stage fright, why did you even try out for show choir?"

Spencer scowled. "It's a long story. But, the thing is, I don't have stage fright, or at least I haven't! I play drums, I used to play in the school band. Being on stage never bothered me."

"Really? I'm in the band. I play trumpet. And piano, sometimes, when they need it."

Spencer looked at him. "Were you there last year?" The band wasn't big enough that Spencer should have forgotten one of its members, and he was pretty sure he'd never met Brendon before.

"No, I just transferred here this year. My family moved here from the other side of town."

"How do you like it?"

Brendon shrugged. "One school's the same as another."

They arrived at the house and walked around to the back door. Spencer heard a lot of noise coming from the front of the house, but Brendon just yelled, "Brought somebody with me. We're going downstairs," and motioned Spencer towards the staircase without waiting for an answer.

In the basement, Brendon settled himself at a small upright piano that sat in the corner of a rec room. "So," he began, looking at Spencer.

"So." Spencer shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"What do you want to work on?"

"Um. Everything?"

Brendon laughed. "Why don't we do some of the dancing? You seem to be okay with singing."

"Only when you're standing next to me," Spencer muttered. It was meant to be under his breath, but Brendon looked up at him in surprise. "I mostly just listen and do what you do," Spencer admitted, looking at the floor. "You're good at this."

When he looked up again, Brendon was grinning. "Thanks."

"Well, you are." There was an awkward pause. Spencer cleared his throat. "Okay. Dancing. God help me."

Brendon sang the song while guiding Spencer through the movements. It was much easier to learn from Brendon than from the choir director, Spencer found, because Brendon sang with exaggerated beats, giving Spencer a chance to translate the words into a drumbeat in his head. Remembering which direction to move was a little harder, but Brendon eventually took to grabbing his arm and hauling him in the direction he needed to go. At one point, he tugged at Spencer's arm when Spencer was off-balance, causing Spencer to crash into him. Spencer, being somewhat larger than Brendon, knocked them both to the floor. "Ow! Fuck," Brendon said when he hit the floor.

"Ugh. Sorry." Spencer found himself pinning Brendon to the floor, their torsos pressed together. Spencer felt something weird stir in his stomach. Brendon was sweaty and breathing heavily, and ... well, he was kind of attractive. More than 'kind of', actually, Spencer thought. Spencer panicked and scrambled off of Brendon before his body could do anything that would humiliate him for life.

He turned away and wiped the sweat off his brow while Brendon got to his feet. "Okay!" Brendon said cheerfully. "Let's try that again!"

They continued to rehearse, but Spencer noticed that Brendon stopped tugging on his arm as they moved. He couldn't decide if he was relieved or disappointed.

*

"So, how's your boyfriend?" Ryan asked, laying with his head dangling off of Spencer's bed.

"Boyfriend?" Spencer was distracted, focused on the video game in front of him.

"The show choir kid. Brendon."

"He's not my boyfriend, asshole."

"You hang out with him three times a week. You've had lunch with him the last two days."

"What, I can't have any other friends besides you?"

"Yeah, but you don't look at me like you were looking at him today." When Spencer turned around, Ryan had flipped over and put his hands underneath his chin. He fluttered his eyelashes dramatically.

Spencer threw the controller at him. "Fuck off."

Ryan laughed and caught the controller. When Spencer held out his hand, he refused to give it back, instead taking up Spencer's game where he'd left off. "So," Ryan asked a few minutes later, "the fall concert's in a couple of weeks. You ready for it?"

Spencer couldn't suppress a shudder. "God, no. Don't remind me."

"If it sucks that much, why haven't you just quit the class?"

Spencer wondered the same thing sometimes. Privately, he admitted he might have quit after that first disastrous performance ... if it wasn't for Brendon. And if he was being totally honest, Brendon was probably the reason he was still there.

He and Brendon did meet three times a week at Brendon's house, but over the last couple of weeks, the time spent rehearsing had shrunk significantly. Instead, they spent a lot of time playing pool and listening to Brendon's CD collection - if Spencer looked to the corner of his bedroom, he would see the stack of jazz albums he'd borrowed from Brendon the day before. Brendon did hilarious impersonations of some of the teachers at school, and Spencer brought over a bunch of the old movies he and Ryan would watch on weekends. It was nice, Spencer thought, to have a friend who wasn't Ryan - not that there was anything wrong with Ryan, of course; Ryan was family, and would always be his best friend. But it was nice to be able to talk to someone who thought differently than Ryan, who laughed at all of Spencer's stupid jokes and had stories to tell that Spencer had never heard.

... and if he occasionally wondered what it might be like to kiss Brendon, well, he'd never tell Brendon that. Or Ryan. Especially not Ryan. He'd never hear the end of it.

  
*

Unfortunately, having Brendon's help didn't make performing in class that much easier. It was comforting to have Brendon's presence next to him when they sang, but once the director made them stand up and start dancing, Spencer's nerves always got the better of him.

"Are you sure you're up for this, Spencer?" the director asked him after one class, his voice full of concern. "If you want some extra help ..."

"It's okay," Spencer said, as he watched Brendon stop at the classroom door, waiting for him. "I'm practicing, I promise. I'll be fine."

Maybe he should have taken the out, he thought. But a week out from the concert, he was determined. He'd put this much time and effort into this stupid class ... and really, he sort of didn't want to let Brendon down. Ryan continued to laugh at him when he mentioned going to Brendon's to rehearse. "Shut the fuck up," Spencer told him. "It's your fault I'm in this fucking mess to begin with."

"You didn't have to take the class," Ryan pointed out.

Spencer was unable to come up with a proper response, so he flipped him off as he jogged towards the bus that would take him to Brendon's house.

At Brendon's, though, he started to panic. "I don't know if I can do this," he said, sitting on the floor with his arms around his knees. "I'm going to suck so bad."

"You can totally do it." Brendon sat down next to him. "You're doing great!"

"If by 'great' you mean that I can move my body in the right directions. Actually doing the dance moves is a totally different story."

"You're mostly doing them. And really, watch everyone else in class tomorrow."

"I can't watch other people and concentrate on my own moves, dude."

"No, really, watch them. Aaron's a half beat off everything, and Lara makes everything twice as dramatic as it needs to be." Brendon laughed. "We kinda suck, to be honest. I'm glad we're not a competitive choir, like the one at my old school."

"Really?" The dirty looks most of the choir still shot him when he messed up had made Spencer think everyone was light years ahead of him. "I'm probably still the worst, though."

"Maybe, but not by much. And if you work hard the next couple of days, then Aaron will totally be the worst dancer in the whole choir." Brendon stood up and tugged on Spencer's hoodie. "Come on, if you practice, we can mock Aaron mercilessly after the concert. It'll be awesome!"

"See, now you sound like Ryan," Spencer grumbled as he allowed Brendon to pull him to his feet.

"Ryan's the skinny dude with the scarves, right?"

"Yeah, we've been best friends since we were kids. You should come over tomorrow night," Spencer said impulsively. "We just hang out and play video games."

"Sure, I'd like that."

Brendon's eyes and smile were bright. Spencer felt slightly guilty for not inviting him over sooner, but the idea of letting Ryan loose on Brendon had - and still - made him nervous. But Brendon looked happy enough at the invitation that he couldn't take it back. In fact, Brendon's smile was infectious, and Spencer found himself grinning back. Slowly, he realized that he and Brendon were standing close enough that he could feel Brendon's body heat through his hoodie, and that his gaze had wandered down to Brendon's mouth. He made himself look back up at Brendon's eyes; the look Brendon returned was unreadable, and his smile was slowly fading into something else, something that Spencer couldn't quite interpret.

With effort, Spencer stepped backwards. "Okay. I'm gonna be able to laugh at Aaron after the concert. Let's go."

Brendon's smile returned, but the unreadable expression in his eyes remained. "Right. Let's do this."

*

The Saturday of the concert dawned, and Spencer stayed in bed until mid-afternoon. He didn't take the covers off his head until he heard the insane racket of his spare snare drum being beaten to a pulp. When he sat up, both Ryan and Brendon stood there, each with a drum stick in hand. "Wake up, loser," Ryan said.

"Get up, we're due at school in three hours," Brendon added.

"I hate you both."

"Sure you do," Ryan said. He pulled the covers completely off the bed. "Up and at 'em."

At that moment, Spencer regretted ever introducing Ryan and Brendon to each other. They got along way better than he'd ever thought they would, which was great for hanging out, but not so much for his mental ease that day. Sure, he was doing much better, but getting up in front of an entire auditorium full of people and trying to dance and sing? "Out of the way," he grunted at Ryan, and made it out of the room and into the bathroom just in time to puke in the toilet.

He stayed in the bathroom to shower; luckily, his bedroom was empty when he emerged. A few minutes later, he walked down to the living room, dressed in the black shirt and pants that were the chosen uniform of the show choir. Brendon and Ryan were sitting there watching TV with his sisters. Brendon looked up and grinned. "Looking sharp, Smith."

"Likewise." He caught Ryan rolling his eyes next to Brendon, but resisted the urge to flip him off.

"Come on," Brendon said, standing up. "We're going to get something to eat before the show."

"Ugh. I don't think food's a good idea." Spencer put a hand on his stomach, which still bubbled at him unpleasantly.

"Neither is fainting from hunger when you get on stage," Ryan pointed out.

Reluctantly, he allowed them to herd him towards the door. As they left, his mom called from the kitchen, "Good luck, honey! We'll be there tonight, I can't wait!"

"Oh, god," Spencer groaned.

"Just breathe," Brendon reminded him. He put a hand on Spencer's back, which calmed him more than it probably should.

A few hours and a couple of tacos later, Spencer found himself backstage in the school's auditorium, listening to the freshman chorus. "I hate this song," he told Brendon. "We played it last year in band, and it gets stuck in my head forever."

"What, 'Simple Gifts'? Yeah, it's stupidly catchy." Brendon nudged him. "You okay?"

"Would it matter if I'm not? No turning back now."

"Hey." Brendon stopped bouncing from side to side and looked at Spencer. "For real, why are you doing this? You obviously kinda hate the whole class. Why'd you keep it?"

Spencer shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I didn't want to let anyone down."

"Who would you let down?"

"Him, I guess." Spencer gestured to the choir director. "He was so enthusiastic about me, I couldn't bring myself to quit. And the sections are all balanced, it'd throw everything off if I quit. And ... I don't know ..." Spencer felt himself redden, but he twisted his mouth into a half smile. "You put a lot of time and effort into making me somewhat coordinated, I figure I owe it to you to at least make the attempt."

Brendon's eyes widened, and Spencer instantly regretted telling the truth. But, then, a genuine smile broke out on Brendon's face. He shuffled his feet and, to Spencer's surprise, blushed a little bit himself. He opened his mouth to say something, but the choir director's shout cut him off. "Okay, folks, that's our cue - it's showtime!"

Spencer felt the familiar twist in his gut that signaled his nerves revving up, but his legs didn't shake, and his mouth didn't go dry in anticipation. Before he could move, Brendon held out his hand. When Spencer took it, Brendon gave him a firm shake. "Break a leg. Figuratively, of course."

"Back at ya." Brendon went and slipped into his proper place in line as Spencer took his place towards the back. He reached up and checked the back of his neck - no sweat, no clammy-feeling skin. This might, he thought, go better than expected.

And then they were marching onto the stage, and Spencer didn't have time to think about anything else.

*

"No offense, you guys, but your choir kind of sucks."

Brendon pointed his bottle of root beer at Ryan. "None taken. We do suck."

"But I," Spencer said triumphantly, "was not the suckiest person in our sucky choir!"

"You were not," Ryan agreed, holding up his hand for a high five. "That honor went to the burly dude who buttoned his shirt wrong."

Brendon snorted a laugh. Aaron had, in fact, been the one to mess up the choreography - he ran into Jessica and caused them both to stumble into the wings for a moment. Spencer, meanwhile, had moved in the proper direction the whole time, and had waved his hands at the right times. He couldn't claim any more than that, but he was happy nonetheless.

It was after midnight, and the three boys sat in Spencer's backyard, drinking soda and finishing off the last of the cake Spencer's mom had bought to celebrate his first on-stage singing and dancing performance. "And my last," Spencer had announced. "I am officially dropping the choir from my schedule." He tried not to be offended when both Ryan and Brendon had burst into applause.

Ryan got up and went inside to go to the bathroom. Spencer looked over at Brendon, who scooted into the space Ryan had abandoned. "Thanks, man."

"For what?"

"For getting me through this. I owe you."

"Nah." Brendon grinned. "I was glad to do it. It was a good excuse ...." He trailed off and looked away.

"A good excuse for what?"

Brendon was silent for a long moment. "To talk to you," he admitted, looking back at Spencer. "I kinda wanted to, since the first class, but you kinda intimidated me."

"Me? Why?"

Brendon shrugged. "You're just ... I mean ..."

The only light they had was the kitchen light filtering through the window behind them, but it was just bright enough for Spencer to see that Brendon was blushing. "What?" he asked.

Brendon was quiet for so long, staring out into the black yard, that Spencer thought he'd refused to answer. But then he started talking, a rush of words that came out without a breath. "I thought you were hot, okay? I do think you're hot, right now, I mean, and I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfortable or whatever, I don't mean to, and I really don't want you to not want to talk to me any more because you're really awesome and ..."

"Brendon," Spencer interrupted. He could feel his cheeks flaming red.

Brendon finally looked over at him. "What?" he asked. It was an odd switch, Spencer though, to have Brendon be the one who looked terrified.

"Shut up."

Spencer took a deep breath, leaned over, and pressed his lips to Brendon's. He felt Brendon jerk from surprise, but his hand came up to curl around Spencer's arm, and he relaxed after an instant. His lips were slightly chapped, but when his mouth opened slightly, he tasted like frosting and root beer. The kiss lasted longer than Spencer had intended, but it felt so good that he only pulled back reluctantly. Brendon's eyes were closed; when they fluttered open, he stared at Spencer with eyes that were almost black. "Oh."

"Jesus, you two, it's about time," Ryan's voice came from the doorway. Spencer instinctively flipped him off, and Brendon let out a soft chuckle. "I'm going home," Ryan announced. "Have fun, you crazy kids."

When he was gone, Spencer looked back at Brendon. "So ..."

"Yeah." Brendon's grin nearly split his face in two. "I totally missed my curfew."

"Whoops."

"My mom's gonna kill me."

"Probably."

"I should really go home."

"Yeah."

Neither of them moved. "I'll make you a deal," Brendon said finally.

"What?"

"I'll promise that you'll never have to dance again to impress me, if you kiss me again."

Spencer laughed. "That's maybe the easiest deal ever."

Brendon's mouth was warm and pleasingly wet against his, and this time, the fluttering Spencer felt in his stomach had absolutely, positively nothing to do with stage fright.

*


End file.
